


Like, Temptation to the Max!

by tklivory



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Multi, Parody, Romance, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tklivory/pseuds/tklivory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU Ferelden, Dailana was not a scion of the Cousland Clan, being just another young lady in the ranks of the nobility of Ferelden and not even near Highever when tragedy struck. In this story, she meets her old friend Strom Cousland - now a Grey Warden - and his friend, Alistair, in the Gnawed Noble Tavern. Of course, since she's *still* Dailana, shenanigans must ensue...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like, Temptation to the Max!

**Author's Note:**

> This is *not* part of the Further Adventures of Dailana Cousland, though the main characters are the same in personality and looks. This is an AU Dailana with an AU Alistair and guest starring someone else's Grey Warden (Strom Cousland, the premier womanizer in all the Lands from the wonderful mind of BSN's Schratty). Yet I enjoyed writing it immensely, and thought some among you might enjoy it. The sequel is to be written shortly, and will *not* be rated T. Just sayin'.

Alistair watched his friend, concerned over the deep funk that seemed to have claimed the handsome blond's normally irrepressible nature. Strom Cousland stared dejectedly at the bottom of the mug of ale sitting on the scarred oak table before him. "What a night," his fellow Grey Warden mumbled. "Leliana won't talk to me, Morrigan is too busy with her mother's grimoire to acknowledge my existence, and even Wynne is too tired to—"

Thankfully, this last statement was interrupted by a mug of ale being slammed down next to him. "Too much thinkin', not enough drinkin', m'boy," Oghren told the young man. "If you want to wallow in the depths of yer despair regardin' the lack of soft curves in yer bedroll, you might as well do it while drunker 'n' a nug what's been dropped into an ale barrel."

Snatching at the proffered drink, Strom glared at the dwarf's evil grin. "I'm  _choosing_  to be here," he declared loftily, indicating the dimly lit interior of the Gnawed Noble Tavern. "I just wanted some time to myself. It  _does_ happen from time to time."

"Then why bring the Chantry boy with you?" Oghren asked, eyebrow quirked. "He can't  _possibly_ help you have a good ol' rip-roarin' time of it. He's just a pike-twirler, doesn't have any notion of how to relieve the ol' tension, if you know what I mean."

"I'm sitting  _right_   _here_ , you know," Alistair said in a sarcastic tone. "But go on, ignore me like everyone else. I'll just cry into my beer in the corner."

Not missing a beat, Oghren returned his attention to the despondent Strom. "My point is that you shouldn't be sittin' here at a table if what you really want is someone to straddle the ol' saddle. Come on, just because you can't ride the fillies in yer stable doesn't mean that you can't find a wild mare ideal for a good time."

Strom brightened. "That's true."

"That's the spirit! Now get out there and find someone who can grease the ol' bronto for ya!"

Face determined, the Grey Warden quaffed his drink and rose to his feet, eyes automatically searching the main room of the tavern for prey. Nodding in satisfaction, Oghren headed back to bar, presumably for more ale.

_"Strom?!"_

Startled, the Grey Wardens turned to see who had spoken so… enthusiastically. Suddenly a lithe figure dashed across the room and threw herself into the arms of the blond Grey Warden, who closed them around her reflexively. After an extraordinarily  _thorough_  hug, the woman released him and leaned back slightly. "Like,  _bee tee em!_  Um, I can't be _lieve_  that you're, like,  _here_! This is so totally _radical!"_

 _"Dailana?"_  Strom responded incredulously. "What are  _you_ doing in Fereldan? I thought you were with Aedan in the court of Rivain!"

She giggled. "When Aedan suggested a trip to Denerim, I was, like, _'Awesome!'_  because they have, like, the best shoes and the best clothes and the best hairstylists." She trailed off with a sigh of happiness before making a sour face. "I didn't know it was going to be, like, politics and boring stuff." She help up her hands to give her fingernails a close inspection as her other hand idly traced the neckline of Strom's gambeson. "Apparenly, he's, like, upset with that Loghain loser, and, like, wanted to talk to him about, I dunno, some kind of civil war or something. Like, so totally  _boring_ , ya know? Anyway, like, what are you  _doing_ here? We'd heard that, like, something totally bogus happened at Highever. Gag me with a spoon, right?" A finger started twirling a lock of blond hair as her cerulean gaze looked up into Strom's eyes with genuine concern. "Are you, ya know, all right?"

Alistair felt his mind turn to mush beneath the onslaught of… well, he didn't know  _what_  to call it, precisely, but it was certainly a _unique_ mode of speech. As his brain shut down, his eyes automatically looked more closely at the woman, noting the exquisite face, the lush curves, the porcelain fair skin. Her indigo dress shone softly in the muted candlelight of the tavern, covering her from neck to toe except for…

He blinked, then blushed furiously and averted his eyes to avoid staring.  _I've never seen a dress like_  that  _before._ His blush deepened as he realized that he definitely wouldn't mind seeing  _more_  of it.  _Or is that_ less?

"I'm all right, dear heart," Strom reassured her, a ghost of sorrow crossing his face. "I'll tell you all about it later." A devilish look replaced the sadness. "Care to join us?"

She clapped her hands, causing very  _interesting_  things to happen in between her shoulders.  _Maker!_  Alistair swore internally. "I'd  _love_ to!" Without any further warning, Strom sat down and pulled her into his lap, eliciting another giggle from her. "You are  _such_ a studmuffin!" One hand reached around his shoulder for balance, which placed the gap in her apparel right next to Strom's grinning face. "So, like, how long are you here for?"

Unfortunately, her position also made her sit so that her… chest was facing Alistair directly. After clearing his throat – repeatedly - Alistair finally managed to say, "Do you know the young lady, Strom?"

She tittered. "Well,  _duh!_  Strom is, like, my father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate! They, like, went to fighting school together or something like that!" She waved a hand dismissively. "What _ever_!"

Alistair's lips moved as he worked his way through the supposed 'relationship'. "So what does that make you two?"

Strom and Dailana looked at each other, each smiling maniacally. "Absolutely luscious!" they chorused, and dissolved into helpless laughter. Alistair surrendered to his inner urgings and allowed himself to stare freely at the  _fascinating_ motion happening right in front of his eyes. As the chortling died down, he reluctantly moved his eyes back to Strom's face, blushing as he saw the knowing glint in his friend's eyes.

"Sooooo, Strom, aren't you going to, like, introduce me to the totally gnarly hottie?" the blond vision asked innocently, staring at Alistair directly.

"Of course, my dear. Alistair, meet Dailana. Dailana,  _this_ is Alistair."

She leaned forward to extend her hand. Alistair hurriedly averted his eyes and grasped it clumsily. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady," he murmured as he laid a chaste kiss on her knuckles. He froze as her hand suddenly turned over and delicate fingers traced the outline of his jaw and ran over his lips before retreating. He glanced up in time to see a mischievous smile dance across her face.

"No, I think the  _pleasure_ is all mine," she whispered saucily, then giggled and leaned against Strom. Returning her attention to the blond man while Alistair tried to calm his pounding heart, she pouted, "You, like, never answered my question, you naughty boy, you. Um, how long are you, like, in Denerim?"

With a sigh of distinct regret, Strom said, "Not  _nearly_ long enough, if I recognize the look in your eye."

She chewed her lower lip delicately then licked her lips slowly, adding a glistening sheen to their fullness. Moaning softly, Alistair reached for his drink and hurriedly began gulping the welcome coolness to stem the building internal fire. "But you're, like, here for at least the night, right? I mean, it wouldn't be, like,  _fair_ , to just, like,  _leave!_  I mean, we haven't seen each other or done the mattress tango in, like,  _forever!_ "

Ale sprayed all over the surface of the oak table as Alistair spluttered helplessly. "Why, Alistair," Strom asked in mock innocence, "whatever is the matter?"

"Nothing!" he said hurriedly, quickly pulling out a handkerchief to mop the worst of it off of his clothes. "Nothing whatsoever!"

Before he could stand up, an imperious hand reached out. "Can I, like, borrow that hankie, my boss of hot?"

"Naturally, my lady," he said automatically, holding out the piece of cloth. She took it and slowly began to wipe at her exposed skin. Alistair's mouth immediately went dry as his eyes watched the small motions, his mind relentlessly replacing  _her_ hand with  _his_ hand, or, better yet, with his—

Shaking his head to clear the scandalous thoughts away, he almost shot to his feet before realizing that that would be a  _very bad idea._

"Are you  _sure_  you're all right?" Strom persisted, mouth twitching dangerously. "You seem awfully  _restless_ all of a sudden."

"I'm  _fine!"_ he insisted. "No problem! Just thinking about what we need to do tomorrow!"

Dailana shrugged, causing his eyes to bounce. "What _ever_.  _I'd_  rather, like, figure out what we're gonna do  _tonight_. _"_  Arching an eyebrow, she looked at Strom. "So, do you, like, have a room? I've got a totally sweet setup in the rockin' house Aedan is renting, and he'll probably be, like, yelling at that Loghain dude until the sun comes up." Her eyes flickered to Alistair, then back to Strom. "Um, I'd really, like,  _love_ some company. I imagine that two totally strapping studmuffins like you hotties could, like, make sure I get home, like, totally safe and then, like, ya know, make sure I don't have any nasty bogus nightmares."

Strom's eyes also flickered to Alistair, a familiar gleam lighting them. "I think that is a  _fantastic_ idea. Let's go." He gently propelled Dailana to her feet before rising himself. Looking at Alistair, he said, "Come on."

"M-me?" Alistair stammered, aware that his face was excruciatingly crimson at the moment. "But—"

Dailana came over and leaned down in front of him. "Any friend of Strom's is a  _friend_  of mine," she said a husky voice. "Besides, the rooms here are, like, totally grody and bogus. My bath is, like,  _waaaay_ more comfortable."

"Don't you mean rooms?" he asked weakly, unable to look anywhere else except where he was  _obviously_ supposed to look.

She wriggled slightly, eyes dancing. "Nope!" she said cheerfully. Grasping his hand, she pulled him, unresisting, to his feet.

Strom clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go. I'm sure a bath will do all of us a lot of good." Under his breath, he muttered for Alistair's ears, "Maker knows we  _both_ need some tension relieved after that business with Flemeth."

"But you know I've never—" he began in an equally low tone.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, telling him to be silent. "Alistair, I love you like a brother, but sometimes…" He sighed, then grinned suddenly. "My brother of the Grey, sometimes you really need to  _lighten up._ " Looking at the softly curved form waiting anxiously for them, finger twirling in her soft golden locks, he said, " _Please_ tell me that you were thinking of more than your handkerchief when she was using it."

"I'm inexperienced, not dead," Alistair hissed.

"And I'm saying it's time to  _do something about that."_  He nodded towards Dailana. "So let's  _go._ "

Alistair hesitated a moment longer. Suddenly Oghren's mocking words echoed through his mind. Mouth settling in a thin line of determination, he said, "Right. I'm  _not_ just a pike-twirler."

"You're not? Ohhh," Dailana's face fell in a mock disappointment. Going over to stand between Strom and Alistair, she linked her arms through their elbows and started towards the door, pulling the Grey Wardens with her. Leaning towards Alistair's ear, she whispered mischievously, "You will be when  _I'm_ through with you."

For the first time since they had staggered, almost dead, from the Korcari Wilds, covered in dragon's blood, Alistair grinned.  _I could get used to this._

**Author's Note:**

> Bee tee em- BTM, or By The Maker (Thedas equivalent of OMG, or ohemgee)
> 
> NOTE: Strom is completely and utterly the creation of the wonderful mind of BSN member Schratty. Dailana stole him for this story because he is also a totally radical gnarly hottie that she wanted to meet and... *ahem* Let's just leave it at that.


End file.
